


5 times the Protectors covered for the Avengers + 1 time they didn't have to

by SailorChibi



Series: The Protectors [6]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Aether, Archery, BAMF Women, Canon-Typical Violence, Extremis, Gen, Laura Barton is a good mom, Maggie Lang is a competent business woman, Mentor Tony Stark, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Not Clint Barton Friendly, Not Natasha Romanov Friendly, Not Steve Rogers Friendly, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Team Bonding, Team Dynamics, Team as Family, The Protectors - Freeform, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Women Being Awesome, Women Supporting Women, laura barton is a SHIELD agent, laura barton takes no shit, marvel women, marvel women being awesome, not wanda maximoff friendly, protect tony stark, team civil war iron man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:14:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22394593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SailorChibi/pseuds/SailorChibi
Summary: The Avengers thought that, by getting a pardon, everything would go back to normal. And in a way, they were right. Problem is, the new normal doesn't include them.
Series: The Protectors [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/566912
Comments: 294
Kudos: 2519





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Bet you thought I'd forgotten all about this series, huh? 
> 
> Note: Shuri is aged up to about twenty-five in this series, as it was written long before any information about her was released.

The kitchen was dingy, dirty and rundown. Clint didn't even like eating there if he could avoid it, but money was tight and on mornings like this, when his stomach was growling so fiercely that it had actually woken both him and Wanda from a sound sleep, he had no choice. While Wanda grumbled and pulled her blanket over head to go back to sleep, Clint hauled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt that smelled mostly clean, shoved his feet into sneakers and sulked down the hallway. He emerged into said kitchen to find Natasha and Sam sitting there.

" - just can't believe him," Natasha was saying, shaking her head. "Laura almost put an arrow in his ass the last time we went to the tower, but somehow it didn't get through his head that Stark doesn't want to see him?"

Sam sighed, resting his chin on his hands. "I keep telling you, trying to talk him out of it is wasting your breath. He's got a one-track mind right now."

They had to be talking about Steve, Clint realized. Well, of course they were. Who else could it be? The rest of them had adjusted to being back in New York, more or less. It had only been a couple of weeks since the official pardon had come through, and they were all still figuring things out. The Accords Council hadn't decided what to do with them; it wasn't known whether they'd be able to continue in their capacity as Avengers, so for the short-term everything was on hold. It was driving Steve, Wanda and Natasha crazy. Clint wasn't sure what was bothering them more: the fact that they didn't know, or the fact that they didn't really get a say.

Steve seemed to have decided that Stark was the reason that the Council was taking their sweetass time. Last time they'd visited the tower, they'd been told in no uncertain terms that if any of them wanted to see Stark, they had to go through Pepper Potts and Maggie Lang first. Steve was determined to just do that. He'd contacted both women multiple times demanding an interview. When that hadn't worked, and his requests had been politely turned down, he'd taken to staking out Stark Tower every morning just to see if he could catch up with them in person.

"He's looking to get shot," Natasha said flatly. 

"Then let it happen," Clint said, opening the cupboard. He examined the contents and held back a sigh. Living in Wakanda hadn't been easy. Though T'Challa had provided them with pretty much everything they needed, it had been a massive culture shock. He'd been relieved when they received permission to return to the U.S. Unfortunately, it turned out that New York on the meagre pay the Council was currently shelling out was a hell of a lot different than New York on a billionaire's dime. He thought back longingly to the fully stocked kitchens in the tower, then selected the last pop tart.

"He's still our leader, Clint. Have some respect," Natasha snapped.

Clint stuffed half the pop tart in his mouth and turned to glare at her. "Steve's a big boy, Natasha. If he wants to pester Stark to the point where Carter loses her mind and _actually_ shoots him this time, I'm not gonna stand in his way. He's our leader, but he's not a child. Steve got the same warning the rest of us did. If he's too stupid to take it under consideration, he deserves the consequences."

"He's not wrong," Sam said quietly before Natasha could respond. "And you know it."

Natasha pursed her lips, eyes flashing, but said nothing else. Not because she didn't have anything else to say, but because she wasn't willing to get into a serious argument in front of Sam. That suited Clint just fine. He shoved the rest of his breakfast in his mouth and walked past them, heading for the door. Neither one of them asked where he was going, which was just as well because he didn't particularly feel like sharing at the moment - he had no location in mind, just a burning desire to get out of the cramped apartment before he snapped.

The morning air was cool and damp. He should've grabbed a jacket, but honestly Clint wasn't even sure where his jackets were. The Compound was off-limits to them, being the property of Stark Industries, and all of their stuff that had been in the Compound was in storage somewhere. Apparently the Council was in the process of talking about buying the Compound from S.I., but to do so would be a costly procedure. And even if they did buy it, Clint knew that there was a chance the five of them would never be allowed back inside. The Compound, after all, was only for superheroes.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and ducked his head, walking fast. None of this had turned out the way he thought it would - the way Steve had _promised_. Stark hadn't been strutting around in New York; he'd been kidnapped, taken to the Raft, and tortured. New York hadn't begged for the return of the Avengers. They were quite pleased with the presence of the Protectors. Laura hadn't been awed by Clint rising to the occasion to protect the world. She'd been absolutely furious that his actions had left her and their children unprotected.

They'd fucked up. That was the crux of the matter, wasn't it? Fucked up in a big, huge way that none of them knew how to fix. Steve wasn't even willing to accept that much. Neither was Wanda. Both of them were determined to believe that the Avengers' day in the spotlight would come again. Sam and Natasha seemed to be somewhere in between. And Clint... Clint was just tired. Tired of only getting to see his wife when in pictures when she was standing close enough to Stark to be captured. Tired of not having seen his kids in weeks. Tired of having made the wrong choice time and time again.

It was tempting to keep blaming everything on Stark, but... somehow, Clint was beginning to think that this time it might not be _completely_ Stark's fault.

Somehow, without him noticing, his feet had led him to a familiar place. Clint glanced around, but no one was watching as he entered the building. He didn't have much money on him, but he had enough to rent a bow and some arrows. It was embarrassing, having to rent equipment. But the weapons Stark had made for the team - personalized, crafted to each of them individually, and _god_ Clint missed that bow - had been confiscated when they were thrown in the Raft. T'Challa had allowed them access to select weapons in Wakanda, but he hadn't gifted them anything. Clint had no idea where his old bow and arrows, the ones that SHIELD have given him, had ended up, but it had been so long since he'd used them that he doubted they were even in working order.

He hefted the rented equipment into his arms and padded back into the range. Again, he felt a pang of longing for what Stark had provided. The archery ranges in the tower and the Compound had been sweet, with a variety of moving targets made out of various materials that had truly tested Clint’s abilities. Stationary targets made from high density plastic foam just didn’t have the same impact; they were usually way too easy to hit and didn’t provide a challenge. Still, it was all he was going to get.

“Bale ten is open,” the organizer told him, scribbling Clint’s name down on a sheet. If she recognized it, she gave no indication. Clint couldn’t decide if that was better or worse than being acknowledged. At one time, he and Natasha had bemoaned the lack of anonymity that came after having joined the Avengers. It meant they were useless for spy work. Now, he realized he missed it.

“This is so messed up,” he muttered to himself, walking over to his assigned space. Steve had promised them that they were doing the right thing. Now, Clint couldn’t even get his wife to answer his phone calls! Worse yet, now Laura was the one out in the field protecting New York while Clint was the one stuck at home. How had their roles reversed? She even had her own codename now, going by Parrae.

Huffing, he set his equipment down and picked up the bow. By now, he had done this so many times that he barely had to think about it. It was automatic to set the arrow to the string and shoot. Clint watched the arrow hit the target and barely held back a scowl; he was badly out of practice. Wakanda didn’t really teach archery. They seemed to regard the activity as primitive. So while they’d given him a basic bow and some arrows, Clint hadn’t ended up using them much.

He shot for a few more minutes before he ran out of arrows and had to walked down to the target to retrieve them. His mood worsened as he examined the target and discovered that about half of his arrows hadn’t hit the center. It had been a long time since he’d done that poorly, and he was kind of glad after all that no one knew who he was – it would’ve been pretty embarrassing for anyone to see that.

It was while he was walking back that he heard the familiar voice rising over the steady thumping of arrows hitting their targets. Clint froze.

“It didn’t work!”

“Do you remember what I told you about not bending your knees?”

“But it feels weird…”

“I know it does, but you’ll get used to it. Remember those ballet lessons you want to take?”

Heart thumping, Clint set his bow and arrows down on the counter and checked the stalls on either side. Two down on his left, he found what – or rather, who he was looking for.

“Like this, Mommy?” Lila Barton had her face fixed into an expression of deep concentration as she stared down at her feet. Laura, standing beside her daughter, smiled.

“That’s exactly it, honey. Now, keep your feet and legs like that while you try again.” She handed Lila the child’s bow – not one rented from the range, Clint noticed, so maybe Stark-made – and waited until Lila was holding it as though she was about to shoot, then gently corrected Lila’s grip on it.

“Think I’ll hit the middle of the target this time?” Lila said.

“Absolutely,” Laura said.

Laura was teaching Lila how to shoot, Clint realized numbly. He didn’t know why they were at a public shooting range instead of at the tower – there could have been any number of reasons. Frankly, Clint didn’t care. All he cared about was the fact that _Laura_ was the one doing it when it should’ve been _him_. He was the one who had always promised to teach Lila how to use a bow when she was old enough.

Neither Laura nor Lila noticed him as Lila lifted the bow again. She released the arrow, which hit considerably closer to the middle of the target this time. Lila cheered and Laura clapped, and honestly Lila’s arrow might as well have pierced Clint’s heart for how much it ached. He could’ve been a part of this… he could’ve been the one scooping Lila up and whispering congratulations into her ear…

Not standing on the sidelines watching.

He could’ve stepped forward. Almost did. Lila would’ve been happy to see him, or so he thought – hoped – but Laura wouldn’t have. His presence wouldn’t have been welcomed, and might even ruin what was an exciting and happy occasion for Lila: she’d been wanting to learn for a couple years now, but Clint had never been home long enough to make it happen.

Regret curdled his stomach, hot and heavy. Why hadn’t he ever _made_ time?

“Record me this time! I wanna show everyone when we get home,” Lila said. She smirked. “Especially Cooper. He bet me a chocolate bar I wouldn’t be able to hit the center.”

“I’ve told you not to make bets with your brother,” Laura said, but she sounded more amused than anything. She took her phone. “Okay, ready.”

Lila put another arrow to the bow, lined up, and shot. This time, she really did hit the middle. She gave a squeal of excitement and dropped the bow to dance around. Clint’s arms ached with the urge to swoop in and scoop her up, tell her how proud he was, share in the moment. Instead, Laura knelt and threw her arms around Lila, praising her effusively. They didn’t need him, he realized, and it hurt.

He retreated from their stall, quietly collected his equipment, and left. Archery had, for the time being anyway, lost its appeal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Parrae means a bird of ill omen in Latin, per the Latin Lexicon https://latinlexicon.org/search_english.php seemed fitting for Laura.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A reminder that in this verse, Laura Barton's maiden name was Kate Bishop and she was a SHIELD agent (that's how she and Clint met).

Natasha watched Clint go, shaking her head. His attitude had been steadily worsening ever since the team had returned to New York. He hadn’t been too bad when they were in Wakanda, but it was like being in New York – and, more likely, the closer proximity to his family – had thrust the reality of the situation into his face in a way that Clint didn’t like and couldn’t handle.

Well, that was too bad. This was the situation that they had whether they liked it or not, and Natasha knew that the five of them needed to figure out a reliable way to deal with it. They only had so much time to prove themselves before the Accords Council would decide whether they were worth keeping around. Natasha had no intentions of being made redundant, but she needed to be smart about things from now on. She needed to ingratiate herself to people with more power than Steve, because Captain America’s name wasn’t worth very much right now.

Unfortunately, going to Stark would be useless. She had tried to explain that to Steve, but every word she said fell on deaf ears. Steve just didn’t want to hear it. He was convinced that if he could just talk to Stark, they’d be able to get everything straightened out. Natasha knew that was bullshit. Even if Stark was willing to hear them out, which he wasn’t, Steve was never going to get close. The Protectors would make sure of that.

“What are you going to do now?” Sam asked, and Natasha startled. Sam was quiet enough that she had forgotten he was there, and that bothered her. She didn’t like to think that her skills might not be up to par anymore, that she might have gotten rusty in Wakanda, but she didn’t even have the excuse of Sam being a fellow agent. She told herself that it was just because she was in the apartment with safe people around. Hadn’t Coulson once told her that she needed to trust her teammates more?

“I might try to get in touch with some of my old contacts,” she said, not willing to give too many details away. As much as she liked Sam, she had to focus on looking out for herself. If Sam were smart, he would do the same – but then, there were still things Sam didn’t know. She didn’t think it was her responsibility to tell him.

“Oh, okay,” Sam said. “I might take a walk.”

“Have fun with that.” Natasha stood and walked into the room that Clint and Wanda shared. She was supposed to be sleeping in here too, but she couldn’t handle that: it was too cramped for her tastes. She stored her clothing in here, but otherwise she slept on the couch. 

Wanda was still sleeping, so Natasha tried to be quiet as she got dressed in tight black jeans, a shapely blue blouse, and black boots. She pulled her now dark brown hair up into a messy bun and quickly did her make-up. A glance in the mirror showed her that she looked exactly like your average New York woman. There would be no reason for anyone to give her a second glance, which was exactly what she wanted right now.

She left the apartment and headed downtown. Steve may not have known it, but Natasha had been keeping an eye on things through some back channels. It was how she’d known that a pardon was coming their way long before it ever materialized. She hadn’t done anything more than monitor thus far, not wanting to take things too far when she couldn’t follow through, but it was time.

Her destination, a seedy bar that had seen better days, was mostly empty. Natasha swaggered inside like she owned the place, taking a seat in one of the back booths. A waitress slunk over a few minutes later, left with Natasha’s order, and returned with a glass of whiskey. Though she took the drink, Natasha didn’t drink it. She set it on the table and took out her phone, pretending to be fully absorbed.

Moments later, the door opened and shut – and there he was. After so many years, Phil Coulson looked a little worse for the wear; his tailored suit couldn’t hide the way he favored his right side, and there was a curved scar running the length of his right jaw. The scar vanished beneath the stubble coating his chin, so it was impossible to know how far it went. His hair was slightly longer too, though thinning on top.

He walked right over to her and carefully sat, positioning himself in such a way that he could see the remainder of the bar, and said, “Good morning, Romanov.”

“Coulson,” Natasha said, masterfully hiding the way her heart had quickened at the sight of him. For too many years, she had believed Coulson dead. It was only recently that the truth had come out. She wasn’t sure if Clint knew. Probably not. If he did, he would be here just like she was. Coulson had always had a soft spot for the two of them, and Natasha was hoping to cash in on that.

The waitress approached again. “Can I get you anything?”

“Just a beer,” Coulson said with a warm smile, naming a brand that Natasha wasn’t familiar with. They sat in silence until the waitress returned with the opened bottle; like Natasha, Coulson took the bottle but made no move to actually drink it. Silence fell between them, and Natasha realized that she would have to be the one to break it.

“Were you surprised to hear from me?” she asked at last.

Coulson shook his head. “Not at all. Actually, I’m surprised that it took you as long as it did to reach out.”

“I didn’t know you were alive,” Natasha said tightly. There went any fantasies she might have harbored of Coulson asking for forgiveness over having faked his death. 

“Considering how highly you value your skills, I thought you would’ve found out long before now,” Coulson said, and she looked at him sharply. His poker face was good enough that she couldn’t tell whether that had been a dig or not. At one time, she would’ve known for sure.

“I had more important things to worry about for a while,” she said, deciding to get in a subtle dig of her own just in case.

He smiled. “Ah. So I’m only important when you think I can do something for you. Of course. I would say it’s good to see you again, Natasha, but that would be a lie. I had hoped that you would have changed, but unfortunately I see that you’re exactly the same.”

Stung, she scowled. “What’s that supposed to mean? Not too long ago, Clint and I were your best agents.”

“And you want that again?” Coulson said.

“I had considered it an option.”

He nodded slowly and said, “I don’t.”

“Why not?!” Natasha demanded.

“For one thing, everyone knows who you are,” Coulson told her. “Your face has been pasted on every news site for the past year. There is no way you could be of use for any undercover missions. Even if we did have the technology to spare, why would we bother when there are other agents out there who are equally as good as you and who have the advantage of anonymity?”

“I have experience. Valuable experience. I’ve dealt with worse things than your agents could even begin to dream of,” Natasha said. She couldn’t argue against the undercover thing. It was frustrating to know that avenue was closed to her forever: hair dye and make-up wouldn’t cut it when some undercover missions required months of commitment and personal contact with the enemy. The only acceptable answer would be undergoing extreme plastic surgery, and that wasn’t something she was willing to do.

“You don’t know who my agents are,” Coulson pointed out. “So you can’t know whether that’s true or not.”

Natasha’s irritation deepened. “I know that none of them are Avengers. Coulson, I don’t understand. Don’t you want me and Clint to work for you anymore? You always said that we were your best agents. You’re the best handler we’ve ever had. Doesn’t that mean anything?”

“Natasha…” He softened, as she had known he would, and she pressed the point.

“We were devastated when we found out you were dead. Clint in particular… that news really shook him. He hasn’t been the same since. But the two of us, we’ve continued to improve our skills. Clint’s an even better shot than before, and I’ve gotten better at hacking. I’ve even learned a couple new languages,” she added proudly. The Wakandans had been resistant to teaching anyone their language, but Natasha was a quick study. She had picked up enough of the language to understand it and make herself understood, though reading or writing continued to be a challenge.

“I know you were. And I am sorry that the two of you were led to believe that I was dead for so long,” Coulson said. “Fury felt that it was necessary to complete the deception.”

Slightly mollified, Natasha nodded. “Apology accepted.”

“But honestly, Natasha, Clint retired. He may have rejoined the Avengers, but he’s no longer an active SHIELD agent and we are not interested in taking him back. As for you, I just don’t see what value you could offer SHIELD right now.”

‘That’s bullshit and you know it!” Natasha snapped.

“Is it? You’re compromised,” Coulson said knowingly, and she froze. “ _You_ always said that one of your greatest assets was your ability to be unbiased. But you’re not. You actively chose a side between Stark and Rogers. Putting aside the fact that you chose the _wrong_ side, you let yourself become compromised. You threw everything away for Rogers.”

“You would’ve done the same thing,” Natasha said thickly.

“Tell yourself that if you want to, but you know it’s not true. I had a lot of respect for Captain America, but not to the point where I would be willing to let myself be blinded by him. Or maybe it’s more accurate to say you were blinded by your feelings towards Stark…” He raised an eyebrow.

“I am not compromised! And I’m not blinded! Iron Man yes, Tony Stark not recommended. That’s always been the case,” Natasha said.

“Things change. It’s a mark of a good agent when they’re capable of recognizing that,” he said, very quietly. “Even now, you can’t bring yourself to admit that you had a part to play in this too. You’re trying to put the blame on everyone else. I’m not sure that I, or anyone else, would be able to trust a mission report that you wrote up. How could we be sure you were telling us facts and not your opinion?”

“I am a good agent!” Natasha said, maybe a bit louder than she should’ve, but this was not going the way she had planned. She had been counting on Coulson and he was slipping through her fingers. At one time, she would’ve known exactly what to say to placate him. Now, it was like looking at a stranger. She clenched her hands into fists.

Coulson stood and took out his wallet. He set down enough money for his drink before putting his wallet back. Only then did he speak, saying, “At one time, you were.” He turned to go.

“Coulson!” Natasha jumped up. He looked back at her.

“By the way, you were wrong. We do have other agents who have similar experience. They might not be Avengers, but I’d say the Protectors are just as good or better. Agent Carter and Agent Bishop are doing a fantastic job.” Coulson smiled at her one last time and walked out.

Numbly, Natasha sank back down into her seat. Sharon Carter and Kate Bishop – Laura must’ve come out of retirement to some degree, she realized. Probably as a personal favor to Coulson, since Laura was just as skilled with a bow and arrow as her husband was. No wonder Coulson felt that he didn’t need Natasha and Clint. Carter and Laura were, as much as she hated to admit it, excellent agents. Worse yet, both of them were completely loyal to Stark and that was the favorable look right now – to the point where Coulson, Natasha’s “sure thing”, wanted nothing to do with her or Clint.

What the hell was she going to do now?


	3. Chapter 3

Natasha didn’t know what she was talking about. That was the conclusion Steve came to as he made his way towards Stark Tower. She had spent the past twenty minutes telling him that he was making a mistake, outlining her opinion in such detail that Steve had finally left the apartment without having breakfast just to get some peace. He was sure she’d be mad later, but that was fine.

At least that was one good thing about them being back in New York. It was true that in Wakanda, T’Challa had allocated them a suite of rooms so none of them had to share - but they weren’t really permitted to go _outside_ those rooms. Here, Steve could walk the whole length of New York if he wanted to and no one would be able to stop him. It was a cheerful thought that put an extra bounce in his step.

He stopped at a small café and, after sussing out his money situation, settled for a cup of coffee and a donut. All of his accounts had been frozen when he went on the run, and he had yet to gain access to any of his money again. He didn’t even know how much was in his account. Tony had always taken care of stuff like that. None of the Avengers had spent a dime of their personal money while living under the tower’s roof. It was, if Steve were being honest, one of the things he missed the most.

When Tony saw the light and agreed to make things right between them, Steve was looking forward to having things back to how they used to be. They’d move back into the Compound, or maybe even back into the tower – he’d be fine with either one honestly, though he thought the others might prefer the Compound. He was sure that Tony held more sway with the Accords Council than he was willing to admit, so there was no doubt in Steve’s mind that Tony would be able to make that happen. 

He just needed to see Tony. They needed to talk. A simple conversation would be enough to clear the air. Steve had come to realize that this wasn’t as much about Tony sulking as it was about the Protectors: they were clearly putting dumb ideas in Tony’s head. After all, things had been going okay between them until Betty pulled out the gun. So this conversation just had to happen without any of the Protectors around. Steve had been foolish last time; they’d shown up at the tower without realizing that the Protectors actually lived there now.

But they knew better now, and that wasn’t going to happen this time. Steve had taken Jane’s advice and actually made an official appointment with Tony. He hadn’t contacted Pepper or Maggie (to be honest, he wasn’t even quite sure who Maggie was) but had instead gone through the official S.I. channels. Tony now believe he had a 10am appointment with a Dr. Grant Shue. Instead, Steve was going to show up.

Smiling with satisfaction, he finished his coffee and headed into the tower. He wasn’t dumb enough to think he’d be able to get in without someone noticing him, so he’d borrowed one of Clint’s wigs and dressed in an admittedly ill-fitting suit he had borrowed from Sam. Still, it was enough that the receptionist didn’t look twice at him, and instead directed him over to an elevator.

“Good morning, Dr. Shue,” a woman said as soon as the elevator doors opened.

“Good morning,” Steve said, letting a hint of an English accent seep into his words. He was pretty good at one now; he’d spent some time in Wakanda practicing. He thought Peggy would’ve laughed to hear him now, and the thought warmed his heart.

“Right this way.” The woman led him down the hall and showed him into a small room. “The wait won’t be long. Can I get you anything?”

“Coffee? And something sweet if you have it,” Steve said. A donut wasn’t really enough to satisfy his appetite. 

“Of course.” She smiled at him and left. Steve sat down and made himself comfortable just in time for her to return with a tray of cookies and a mug of coffee. When she left again, she closed the door behind her.

Steve leaned back in his chair and looked around, popping a cookie in his mouth. Some people might have been nervous at the upcoming confrontation, but Steve wasn’t. He knew he could make Tony see reason. With Tony, it was just a matter of laying out the facts calmly and rationally. Then Tony would bluster and make excuses, and you had to let him feel like he was having his say before cutting through all the bullshit. No matter how long it took, Steve was prepared to hammer the truth into Tony’s head.

Yes it was unfortunate that Tony had been kidnapped by Ross and thrown in the Raft. It was awful that Tony had been tortured. But none of this would’ve happened if Tony had just _listened_ in the first place. This all could’ve been avoided if they had come together as a team to turn the Accords down. And frankly, the Protectors just weren’t as good as the Avengers. The world _needed_ the Avengers. Tony needed the Avengers.

The door opened and Steve looked up, smile already in his face. That smile froze as Pepper Potts strode into the room, closely followed by a pretty woman with curly blond hair. Both women were dressed in tailored suits, Pepper in dark grey and the other woman in a deep green, with heels. It had the immediate effect of making Steve feel under-dressed, and he didn’t like that. 

“Mr. Rogers,” Pepper said coolly. “To what do we owe this opportunity?”

“Wh-what?” Steve said, shocked. “Uh – I believe you’ve mistaken me for –”

“I understand you tried to make an appointment with Tony under an assumed name,” Pepper continued as though Steve hadn’t spoken. Her blue eyes were chips of ice. “Fortunately, Ms. Lang noticed the discrepancy and made sure to correct it.”

Lang. Maggie Lang. The name jumped into Steve’s head. Scott’s ex-wife. Of course. He cleared his throat. “I appreciate that, Ms. Lang,” he lied. There was no point in continuing the charade now. He might have gotten away with it if it had just been Lang in the room, but Pepper knew him too well for that. 

“I’m sure you do,” Lang said, not smiling. She hung back as Pepper came forward, staying near the door.

“Let’s make this quick. What are you doing here?” Pepper asked.

“Jane said that if I wanted to meet with Tony, I needed to make an appointment,” Steve said. “So… here I am.” He spread his hands, tipping his chin up with a smile that was just short of cocky. They couldn’t be mad at him for following the rules.

“You made an appointment under false pretenses,” Pepper said flatly. 

Steve shrugged. “When I called, they asked what name I wanted to give,” he pointed out. “It’s not my fault that I had to do. If Tony would’ve agreed to meet with me like I asked, then I wouldn’t have had to lie.”

Lang twitched in the doorway; Steve shot her a quick glance and noticed that her fingers had tightened around the tablet until her knuckles turned white. Her lips were pursed into a thin line, but she said nothing.

Pepper, on the other hand, looked furious. “Tony has every right to decide that he doesn’t want to meet with you, Mr. Rogers. In fact, if I recall correctly, Tony has indicated that he has no interest in speaking with you or your group. Considering that you’ve flagrantly ignored his wishes and engaged in subterfuge in an effort to meet with him regardless, I’m going to suggest that he consider filing for a restraining order.”

Steve’s mouth dropped open. “Tony can’t do that! I haven’t done anything wrong!”

This time, Lang let out an audible scoff. But again, it was Pepper who responded.

“That might be how _you_ see things, but I can assure the rest of us see it quite differently.” She stood up. “From this moment forward, you are banned from any properties owned by Stark Industries. If you show up here again, I will call the police. Am I clear?”

“Pepper!” Steve jumped to his feet. “You can’t be serious. I’m not here to hurt anyone!” He noticed that Lang had turned away from them and pulled out a cell phone but ignored her. His sole focus was on Pepper, who was staring him down like he was a bug she’d like to step on.

“And that’s why you lied about who you were,” Pepper said, a hint of sarcasm seeping into her voice. It was the exact same condescending tone that Tony always used, and it got Steve’s hackles up.

“I told you, I wouldn’t have to lie if Tony would just come to his senses!” he snapped. “He’s blowing this way out of proportion.”

“If you really believe that, then you’re even more delusional than I thought,” Pepper said, folding her arms across her chest. “You really have no idea, do you? If Tony weren’t the man that he is, you would have been brought up on charges of attempted murder.”

“Yeah right,” Steve said with a snort, not believing that for a moment. 

“It’s the truth, but clearly you’re not willing to open your eyes long enough to see that. So let me lay out it for you in simple terms you’ll understand. Tony is _never_ going to go back to being your lackey, understand? He will _never_ shell out another dime for you. He will _never_ build you or your friends anything else. Tony is _done_ with you.” Pepper’s eyes were literally blazing, small sparks falling from her pupils. 

“You called for security, Ms. Lang?” someone said before Steve could respond.

“Ah, yes. We have someone here who is trespassing. Please escort him out immediately,” Lang said, stepping aside. Four security guards entered the room.

“Please come with us, Sir,” one of them said.

Steve set his jaw. There were four of them, but he knew that he could go through them with no problem at all if he wanted to. Pepper was more of a question mark – he’d seen her occasionally during battles, and he knew she had mysterious powers from Extremis. He also had no idea whether any of the other Protectors were around. It wouldn’t be so easy to get past them.

“Fine,” he said after a lengthy silence, not looking at Pepper or Lang. He stepped forward and allowed the security team to usher him past the two women and out the door. It was frustrating to know that he’d been thwarted, but he wasn’t going to give up. 

Sooner or later, he’d get his chance to talk to Tony and explain everything – and then they’d see who Tony was done with.


	4. Chapter 4

Wanda stood with her arms folded across her chest, staring up at the New York Sanctum. It was tempting, so very tempting, to just turn on her heel and walk away – but the piece of paper crumbled up in her right hand had clearly outlined what the consequences for that would be. If she didn’t go through with this ridiculous, humiliating spectacle, the Council wasn’t even going to consider her application to be an Avenger.

It was incredibly unfair. Hadn’t she already proved her worth, same as all the rest? She had been there when Ultron was defeated! She had been _pivotal_ in that fight! She had fought in countless battles since then! Her powers were so great that they had needed to use that damned collar to keep her in jail! Furthermore the Avengers _needed_ someone with magic, all of which should’ve been more than enough to cement her place on the team - yet none of them seemed willing to appreciate what she was capable of. 

“Absolutely ridiculous,” Wanda snarled under her breath, tightening her fist just to feel the paper crunch. She had tried to appeal to Steve, but Steve had merely shaken his head and said there was nothing he could do. Natasha had been a little sympathetic, but pointed out that Wanda should think about going along with it just to make herself look good. Clint had just sighed and told her to start acting like a grown-up and suck it up. It was hard to know which reaction had been more insulting.

She tapped her foot on the ground, weighing her options, and finally huffed under her breath. Well, fine. If the other Avengers weren’t going to do anything to get her out of this, she’d just have to take matters into her hands. She was a capable witch no matter what people thought. Her control over her powers was perfect. All she had to do was prove that to the Sorcerer Supreme’s satisfaction and she’d be good to go.

Wanda climbed the steps and opened the door, letting herself in. She glanced around with a critical eye, realizing that the Sanctum left much to be desired. The interior was very plain, with little in the way of decoration, and there was no one there to greet her even though she was only a few minutes late. Wanda’s already bad mood soured further as she began to climb the stairs.

The sound of voices reached her ears as she got to the top, and she turned automatically towards them. Most people would’ve been frightened by the long, dark hall that stretched before her, but Wanda traversed the hall with confidence. After all, she was an accomplished witch. Anything they threw at her, she would be able to handle. And as soon as she proved herself, she would be a full-fledged Avenger again.

“Okay you two, knock it off or take it into the Mirror Dimension!” The voice was male, loud and accented. Wanda picked up the pace and shortly found herself standing before a large room. Two men and a woman were inside. One of the man had his arms folded, shaking his head.

“Oh, come now, what’s a little damage between friends?” the other man asked. Wanda blinked, realizing that she recognized him. He was a tall, slender man with dark hair and a red cloak. She had seen him on television with Stark a handful of times. For that matter, so had the woman. 

“I’m warning you, Strange,” the first man said.

The woman laughed. “He has a point. We’re being rude.”

“Fine, gang up on me,” Strange said, but the amused quirk of his lips suggested that he wasn’t as annoyed as he was making himself out to be. 

Strange. Stephen Strange. The Sorcerer Supreme. This was who Wanda had been sent to find? Her skepticism deepened as she realized that meant the Sorcerer Supreme was acquaintances, if not friends, with Tony Stark. There was a good chance that Stark had already poisoned his mind against her. That wasn’t fair. Maybe she should contact the Council and demand that someone else be the determinator…

“Oh, hello,” the woman said, turning and looking at Wanda. 

“You must be Ms. Maximoff,” Strange said, his expression falling into something carefully blank. The other man in the room snorted and left through another door that Wanda hadn’t previously noticed, though the woman remained.

“That’s me,” Wanda said. “Are you a Protector?”

“No,” Strange said, seemingly unsurprised by the question. The woman smirked. She looked vaguely familiar too, short with long, dark curly hair. Wanda dismissed her as unimportant for the moment, narrowing her eyes at Strange. If he wasn’t a Protector, then she still had an edge. The Protectors apparently had a couple of magic users, but neither of them could do what Wanda could. They needed her.

“Okay,” she said. “What do you want me to do?”

“You’re here for an assessment, to have your powers tested,” Strange told her, as though Wanda didn’t already know that. “So my first question is, what do you know of your magic?”

Wanda stared at him, baffled. “What do you mean, what do I know? I know how to use it, if that’s what you’re asking,” she said with a trace of impatience. 

Strange and the woman exchanged a look, and then Strange sighed. “You weren’t taught basic spells?” he pressed. “The other dimensions?”

“I didn’t have time for that nonsense,” Wanda said, crossing her arms. Hydra hadn’t _given_ her time. They had pressed her and Pietro to learn the depths of their powers as quickly as possible. Wanda had been given prisoners to use her powers on, while Pietro had been subjected to trials. Both of them had learned because they had to, but they hadn’t been given the luxury of teachers. She felt her lip curl at the thought. 

What use did she have for something like a spell, when she could snap her fingers and _make_ people do whatever she wanted?

“I see.” Strange didn’t look happy. “Well then, Ms. Maximoff, I have to admit that everything I’ve heard about your powers has been secondhand. If you wouldn’t mind a demonstration, I’d like to see what you’re capable of.”

“You’re sure about that?” Wanda said. 

Strange nodded. “Very sure.”

“Okay,” Wanda said with a shrug, letting the magic that always burned in her heart pool into her hands. The sight of the beautiful red light was as mesmerizing as always. One of the worst days of her life had been when she was trapped in the Raft in that collar, unable to call to her power. She had since vowed that no one would ever collar her like that again.

She used her magic to lift herself until she was hovering about six feet above Strange and the woman; luckily, the ceiling of the room was about ten feet above her still. Since she wanted to make sure they had an excellent view, she went no higher. Instead, she raised a hand and sent off several sharp pulses of magic at the far wall. Then she created a shield around herself, a perfect red bubble nothing and no one could penetrate.

A quick glance down at her audience showed that neither of them looked particularly impressed, which was slightly annoying. Just letting her magic coil around her fingers was usually enough to make Steve and Clint offer praise. Wanda let her hands fall to her sides and focused on a stack of weights on the ground, lifting them with nothing more than a twitch of her eyebrow. Then she let herself return to the ground.

“Is that all you can do?” the woman asked. It was the _way_ she said it that most irked Wanda, as though what Wanda had done so far was not special or worthy of note. Wanda’s temper rose.

 _I can do more_. Wanda did not speak the words out loud, but sent them telepathically. And then she moved, darting forward and ducking around to come up behind the woman; she placed her hands about half a foot from the woman’s head and delved deep into her magic, casting it at her target. She threw herself into the woman’s head –

And slammed into a brick wall.

The woman let out a laugh. “Oh, did you think it would be that easy?” she inquired, brushing Wanda’s magic away as though it were nothing more than an annoying fly. Her hands glowed with black light, shot through with veins of reddish gold.

“What –” Wanda said, shocked.

“My name is Jane Foster,” the woman said with a taunting smile. “Otherwise known as Quintessence. You got your powers from the Mind Stone, right? Well, I got mine from the Reality Stone. You’re not nearly as unique as you think you are, Scarlet Witch.”

Quintessence. The name rung a bell. Wanda quickly realized that she was looking at another one of Stark’s associates. Worse yet, this one was actually a Protector. She took a step back, clenching her hands into fists, running an experienced eye over the woman in search of any weaknesses. Hydra had taught her that someone _always_ had a weakness that could be exploited.

“That’s _enough_.” 

A vat of cold water was dropped over Wanda, or at least that was what it felt like. She gasped in shock, her hands flying to her hair in the expectation of finding it wet. But it wasn’t; she was perfectly dry, and Strange was standing between her and Foster with a pissed expression on his face. His gloved hands were held aloft, moving in strangely compelling ways that Wanda didn’t understand.

“What the hell did you do?” Wanda said in a trembling voice. Something was wrong. She threw one of her hands up, trying to summon some magic. Nothing happened.

“I sealed your powers. How dare you carelessly try to invade someone’s mind like that?” Strange snapped.

“You told me to show you what I could do!”

“And in circumstances such as that, you _ask_!” Strange got right up in her face. “Your blatant disregard for the will of others has always been troubling, but now I’ve seen it firsthand. Magic is not a toy, but mind magic in particular is not something to be played with, Ms. Maximoff. I’m sure you don’t care about the people who are left in your wake, but I do. The Council asked you here today so that I could see what you could do, but also so that I could assess your level of control.”

Wanda had already known that, but she grew angrier regardless. “How dare you!”

“It’s my job as the Sorcerer Supreme,” Strange said coldly. 

“The Avengers need me! They need my magic!”

“The Avengers aren’t even supposed to be on the field yet,” Foster piped up. “Besides… we’ve already got magic users who are far more capable than you.”

Strange nodded. “Until you learn to treat your magic appropriately, you are not going to have access to it. You are welcome to come to Kamar-Taj to learn; they will teach you both the principles of magic and how to use it properly. The Council would happily arrange your travel there –”

“Give it back!” Wanda shrieked. “Give it back!” She launched herself forward –

And fell to her knees on the sidewalk. Baffled, she jerked upright and looked around. She was in downtown New York, several miles away from the Sanctum. Behind here, a portal was slowly closing. Wanda leapt up and grabbed for it, but the golden sparks slid through her fingers like water. She was alone on the sidewalk, with the people around her giving her a wide berth as she groped at the air, and no magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder if it'll ever stop being satisfying to write fics where Wanda is put in her place...


	5. Chapter 5

When Wanda burst back into the apartment literally _shrieking_ like she was on fire, she damn near gave Sam a heart attack. It took him several minutes to figure out what she was screaming about, since she was crying so hard she could barely a get a word out. Eventually, he managed to figure out that the Sorcerer Supreme was in league with Stark and had stolen Wanda’s magic.

That gave Sam pause – he hadn’t even known that magic was something that could be stolen – but now wasn’t the time to dwell on that. He left Wanda sobbing into her pillow into the bedroom and slipped out into the kitchen. He shot off a series of quick texts to Steve, Natasha and Clint and then sat down at the table, figuring that all three of them would be back eventually.

Of course, that was _if_ Steve didn’t get himself arrested by trying to force his way in to see Tony. Based on Steve’s attitude when he left, there was a high likelihood of that happening. Sam sighed at the thought of having to try to bail Steve out of jail. That would take money they didn’t have, first of all: they were barely scraping by as it was, and he was certain that Captain America’s bail would be astronomical.

Sam sighed and rested his head in his hands. When had it all gone so wrong? That was what he didn’t understand. At first, everything had been _so cool_. Captain America needed his help! Of course Sam had jumped at the opportunity. Who wouldn’t? He’d put his trust and his faith in Steve, believing that Steve was making the right choice. Never once had it crossed Sam’s mind that Steve might’ve been blinded. He’d never once thought that Steve might have a more selfish motive in mind…

Leaving Barnes behind in Wakanda had just about killed Steve. Even though Sam privately thought that Wakanda was the best place for Barnes right now, it was only a matter of time before Steve dragged Barnes here whether Barnes wanted to come or not. It hadn’t taken Sam long to notice that when it came to those two, what Steve wanted was usually what happened. And that was uncomfortable. Because it made Sam question whether or not Steve took anyone else’s opinions into account, or whether Steve just blindly moved forward assuming everyone was with him and stepping on those who weren’t.

Steve, Clint and Natasha returned home before Sam could think on the matter any longer. Steve immediately began to fuss over Wanda, treating her as though she was about five-years-old. Normally Clint would’ve been right there with him, but Sam noticed that Clint was hanging back. Natasha wasn’t showing much interest in Wanda at all; she seemed distracted, which was unusual for Natasha.

“This had to stop,” Steve said, which drew everyone’s attention. He was sitting on the couch with his arm wrapped around Wanda, who was weeping piteously into Steve’s chest. Sam was torn between feeling bad for her, and being annoyed by her theatrics. It was an irritating dichotomy. 

Sure, Wanda’s magic had been stolen and that wasn’t right – but Wanda was also prone to throwing her magic around like she could do whatever she wanted and no one could tell her otherwise, and it had only been a matter of time before someone put a stop to that. Sam wasn’t sure how old she was, but Natasha had estimated Wanda to be in her early twenties and Natasha was excellent at guessing ages. That was more than old enough to recognize that your actions had consequences.

Not that he was brave enough to tell Wanda that. Steve, and Clint up until recently, would’ve blown a gasket. Clint could be forgiven to some extent, being that he was a father and had clearly been projecting onto Wanda. Steve ,on the other hand, was just weirdly protective over Wanda. Sometimes Sam wondered what would happen if Wanda and Barnes had a difference of opinion. Steve’s struggle over who to side with would be hilarious.

“What are you going to do?” Natasha asked, finally paying attention to what was happening. It was hard to get a ready on what she was thinking. 

“You have to get my magic back,” Wanda wept. “I need it!”

“Didn’t that sorcerer guy say you could have it back if you learned how to use it?” Clint asked her.

“I _know_ how to use it!” Wanda snapped, glaring at him.

“Wanda’s right. She’s been using her magic all along with no issues. I don’t see why she needs to prove to some guy in a cape that she has control,” Steve said with a reproving look at Clint. “No… I think we’re being railroaded by Tony and the Protectors. It seems like we’re running into walls no matter where we go. Our message isn’t getting through, so we need to go straight to the source. We need to go talk to the Accords council themselves.”

Clint and Sam exchanged loaded looks. To his credit, Clint looked no happier with the current conversation than Sam did. Something had happened to Clint that morning. Something that had changed him. But now wasn’t the time to get into it.

Finally, Sam said, “So… where are you going, exactly?”

“The Compound,” Natasha said, watching Steve with grim focus.

Steve nodded. “Exactly. I hear that’s where a lot of the action has been happening. I’m sure if we go out there, maybe talk to some of the people in charge instead of having our messages go through a liaison, we’ll be able to clear this whole misunderstanding up.”

“Right. That’s exactly what will happen,” Natasha said blankly. She shook her head, let out a faint huff, and walked out of the room. Steve watched her go with a frown.

“I had hoped you’d go with me,” he called after Natasha, but she didn’t even stop. They all heard the door of the apartment close a moment later.

“I’ll go with you,” Sam said, because he knew that Clint wasn’t going to volunteer and he was pretty sure that Wanda shouldn’t be anywhere near the Compound. She might not have her powers right now, but a breakdown or screaming episode wasn’t going to convince anyone that Wanda was mentally sound enough to get her powers back.

Steve smiled proudly. “Thanks Sam. We’ll go tomorrow.”

Getting out to the Compound proved to be a little harder than Steve had anticipated. They had to take the train to the nearest town, and then take a cab the rest of the way. That was expensive – Sam noticed Steve’s eyebrows shooting up at the price – but Sam paid it anyway, because there was no way in hell he was walking the fifteen miles there and fifteen miles back.

The Compound was bustling with activity, even more so than when the Avengers had lived there. As they got out of the cab, Sam realized that he didn’t recognize any of the people walking around. And the Compound looked a little different. The landscaping had changed. He didn’t know why he had expected it to look exactly the same; it had been over a year since they’d been here. But he had.

It was very weird to feel like a stranger in a place where you used to live. Sam hesitated as the cab drove off, shoving his hands in his pockets and wondering if they had made the correct choice in coming here. Steve, of course, didn’t seem affected; he marched forward like he owned the Compound, striding up to the front door and jerking it open. Somehow, as Steve disappeared inside, Sam found himself veering off from the front door and heading to the right.

It only occurred to him as he was walking away that he wanted no part of whatever Steve was about to do.

No one gave him a second look as Sam wandered around. It was as though their eyes slid right over him. That was fine. Sam wasn’t sure what sort of reception they might have received otherwise, but he thought it unlikely that they would have been welcomed. They didn’t belong here now. They weren’t welcome. He didn’t even know if the Avengers would be housed here if the Accords council deemed them fit. Maybe they wouldn’t be. Maybe no one would want them.

The sound of laughter and shouts caught his attention. Curious, he changed course and followed the sounds. There were other people heading in that direction too, and he caught a few mumbles about sparring and a training area. He realized that an outdoor training area, something that Steve had been pushing for big time, must have been added while they were gone.

Once he got around the far side of the Compound it was easy to see where people were headed, but what he wasn’t expecting to see was a suit of armor flying around. Sam slowed, staring at the armor in astonishment. It was much sleeker than even the Iron Man armor and painted in shades of burgundy and violet with jagged bolts of blue lightning. This was the first time he’d seen Conducta in person. Her armor was impressive.

“Gotta do better than that, Wasp!” Conducta called, hovering up twenty feet off the ground.

There was a female laugh and then the Wasp appeared out of nowhere, landing on the ground. “Oh, like this?” she asked with an innocent smile before she threw herself at Conducta. And then the fight was _on_ , both women sparring with an aggressive ease that suggested they’d done this many times before.

And as Sam watched, something niggled at the back of his mind. But it wasn’t until Conducta flew up high, so high that those on the ground were squinting to see her, that that _something_ finally crystallized into a thought he could grasp. The Protectors were a good, solid team. One way or another, they had all of their bases covered. They had air support, magic support, muscle support, and strategic support.

The Avengers weren’t needed.

It should have been obvious, yet the realization rocked Sam to his core. When he’d first agreed to join the Avengers, he’d done so on the basis that the team needed better air support. Steve had learned from Iron Man that they might not be able to depend on War Machine to be where they needed him. The Vision could fly, but he was so new to life that he didn’t always understand what mattered. And while Clint could and did get up high, it wasn’t easy for him to move around.

Enter Sam, who was able to move easily and quickly with the Falcon wings. But as he stood there and watched Conducta and Wasp, it occurred to him that the wings were no match for one of Stark’s suits. The suits had the same maneuverability and flexibility that the wings did while also providing full body protection. A cold feeling gripped him and he took a step back.

He had thought they were returning from Wakanda to a world that needed him, but now Sam had his doubts. Steve had always made it sounded like the Avengers were irreplaceable. Apparently, Steve had been wrong. While the Avengers were on the run, new superheroes had stepped up. And just from one look, as Sam watched Conducta land and the faceplate snap up to reveal Darcy’s laughing face, he knew that they were more of a team than the Avengers had ever been. The coldness began to sour, and he turned quickly and walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The name for Darcy's superhero self comes from the idea of electrical conducts and her love of tasers.


	6. Chapter 6

One by one, the Avengers filed into the small, cramped room. Clint was careful to avoid everyone's eyes as he took a seat at the table. Natasha sat down beside him, so close that their knees bumped together - not because she wanted to, but because they had to sit that close in order to squeeze everyone in. He continued to avoid her gaze as Sam, Steve, and Wanda sat down too. No one said anything, each of them preoccupied with their own thoughts. Clint didn't know about the others, but he was wishing that he was anywhere else.

The heavy silence was only broken when a woman walked into the room, her heels clicking sharply against the tile floors. She was petite and slender, wearing a dark grey suit and a light blue shirt. A matching blue hijab covered her hair. She strode to the front of the table and set her briefcase down, forcing Wanda to scoot away and lean more into Steve. The woman took a stack of papers out of her briefcase and looked around at them.

"Good morning. My name is Dr. Ali," she said crisply. "Thank you for coming."

"The pleasure was ours," Steve said, slapping on what was clearly a fake smile on his face. Clint fought the urge to roll his eyes, knowing that Steve would definitely notice if he did. And ever since Steve and Sam had gone up to the Compound four days ago, Steve's temper had been decidedly shorter. Whatever had happened had really pissed Steve off, but so far he'd refused to tell them what had happened. Sam wasn't much help, since he professed not to know, and if Natasha had gotten the truth out of Steve, she wasn't telling.

"Right," Dr. Ali said, looking down her nose at them with a distinctly unimpressed look. Steve's smile slowly faded as she walked to the head of the room, and he settled back in his chair with his shoulders squared like he was getting ready to go into battle. 

"Why are we here?" Steve asked her. "The emails that we got didn't say. Is this for some kind of medical procedure? Are you going to be checking us over to see if we're fit to go into the field again?" He sounded excited at the idea, even though Clint could've told him there was no way that was going to happen. Clearly Steve hadn't read all the way through the email they'd gotten.

Dr. Ali's frown deepened. "No, Mr. Rogers. I'm not a medical doctor," she said. "I have a PhD."

"In what?" Natasha asked, sitting forward like she was dying to hear the answer. It was a classic tactic, one that Natasha wasn't usually so obvious about. Dr. Ali clearly wasn't fooled.

"My background is not why we're here, Ms. Romanov. I have been asked by the Accords Council to speak to you all in regard to your status as heroes," she said, which grabbed all of their attention. 

"Have they made their decision?" Steve asked eagerly.

"Yes. First and foremost, I'd like to point that anyone who remains an Avengers will have to sign the Accords," Dr. Ali said, and Steve's smile immediately vanished. Clint winced. He'd suspected that would be the case, but he could tell that the news had blindsided Steve.

"What if we don't want to? What if we don't agree with the Accords?" Steve said.

Dr. Ali looked him right in the eyes. "Then you won't be an Avenger. Signing the Accords is non-negotiable. I assume that you've all taken the chance to read through them?"

Clint, Sam and Natasha all nodded. Only Steve and Wanda were still, which didn't surprise Clint in the slightest. Wanda would undoubtedly claim that she'd been too distraught over what had happened with her powers, but that was bullshit. Steve was against the Accords and what he thought they stood for, which meant that Wanda was against them as well. Not that Wanda would have been for them even if Steve wasn't around. Neither Wanda nor Steve were ever going to be in support of something that gave other people the right to oversee or regulate their behavior.

"Hmm," Dr. Ali said. "I'm glad to hear that at least some of you are doing your homework. Mr. Barton, Mr. Wilson, your requests to return to active Avenger status has been approved."

"Seriously?" Clint said, eyes lighting up. That was the last thing he'd expected to hear. The Protectors had Parrae now, so it wasn't like Hawkeye was a necessity. Hell, it had been hard enough convincing people that they needed one bow wielder around in this day and age, much less two.

"Yes, seriously. But you won't be Avengers anymore. You're both going to be joining another team," she said.

"I'm fine with that," Sam said quickly, and Clint nodded. Honestly, the title of 'Avenger' didn't feel like a good thing anymore. It was tainted by a hell of a lot of bad press. Clint wasn't saddened to hear that they'd be able to drop the name.

Steve, however, looked angry. "You can't break us up! We're a team!"

"That's not your decision to make, Mr. Rogers."

"It's Captain!" Steve snapped.

"You're not currently an Avenger and you never reached Captain status in the army, so actually it's not," she said calmly. "And I will thank you not to shout at me, or we will have to adjourn this meeting early."

"What about the rest of us?" Natasha cut in.

"What do you mean?" Dr. Ali asked.

"You said Clint and Sam had their requests approved," Natasha said.

Dr. Ali nodded. "Correct. I'm afraid the requests from Mr. Rogers, Ms. Maximoff, and you, Ms. Romanov, have been denied."

"What?" Steve shouted, jumping to his feet. "You can't do that!'

"The decision was not mine to make. I am merely the messenger," Dr. Ali said, folding her arms over her chest. "Ms. Maximoff, you were given the opportunity to do training in Kamar-Taj and you refused. Without your powers, you're a civilian. You have no training. You would be a liability out in the field. Furthermore, Dr. Strange wanted me to tell you that you will not be getting access to your powers until such time that you _do_ agree to go for training. That is non-negotiable."

Wanda looked like she'd been slapped.

"Ms. Romanov, we have spoken extensively with several of your colleagues who used to work with SHIELD and who have now signed the Accords and are working as superheroes. The overwhelming majority refused to work with you," Dr. Ali continued. "They seemed to think that you are too self-serving and that you're incapable of making rational judgment calls without being biased. There is also concern that you would listen to anyone other than Captain Rogers. Worse yet, they believe that you're unaware of those issues and so are refusing to work with them. Based on what the council has observed, they are inclined to agree. For that reason, your skills are not required."

Natasha said nothing, but Clint saw the tremble of her chin.

“Lastly, Mr. Rogers. The Council has discussed your request at length before making the decision not to proceed. Among other concerns, there was a lot of doubt surrounding your ability to separate yourself from any potential situations involved Sergeant Bucky Barnes –”

“It wasn’t Bucky’s fault!” Steve roared. This time, Clint couldn’t help rolling his eyes. He wasn’t privy to the finer details of what had gone on between Stark and Steve, but he was damned tired of hearing Steve say that. At first Clint had been willing to give Steve and Barnes the benefit of the doubt to some extent, bearing in mind that Clint knew exactly how horrible brainwashing could be.

But Clint Barton was not a stupid man in spite of the stupid things he had done, and it hadn’t taken him long to figure out that Steve never gave reasons or explanations for anything. It was getting to the point where Steve was sounding like a broken record. This wasn’t a tussle between five-year-old’s where blame had to be assigned, but Steve didn’t seem to get that. Whose fault it was didn’t matter. What mattered was the people stepping up to take responsibility for what had happened.

Right now, looking at the way Dr. Ali was all but outright glaring at Steve, he regretted not having come to that realization sooner. Clint didn’t wholly agree with the Accords; he thought that to some degree, Steve was right when it came to accountability and political agendas. But Steve was also wrong when he said that’s _all_ the Accords were, particularly with all of the recent amendments.

Bottom line was, they’d all had some fault in this. But Stark and the Protectors were the ones making a difference. The Avengers had broken the law and then ran away to hide behind King T’Challa. They’d been making things worse for themselves and everyone else the whole way through and Clint couldn’t blame the council for deciding they wanted nothing to do with some of the Avengers. Hot shame made him scrunch down in his chair.

“Mr. Rogers, we are not speaking about Sergeant Barnes,” Dr. Ali snapped. “We are talking about you and the fact that you have just demonstrated my point. You are incapable of listening to reason when it comes to Barnes. Based on your past with the army, there were also concerns raised about whether you’d be capable of listening to orders on the field. Those were the two biggest issues, but I assure you that there was a whole host of reasons as to why you are no longer going to be an Avenger.”

Steve flinched. “You can’t just throw us away! We’re heroes!” he protested. “Wanda, Natasha and I have saved millions of people.”

“Your past actions were taken into account,” Dr. Ali agreed, and something about the way she said that suggested that those past actions hadn’t exactly reflected upon them in a positive light. “You can file an appeal if you like. I have the necessary forms right here.” And with that, having clearly expected this, she handed Natasha, Wanda and Steve the forms she had removed from her briefcase at the beginning of the meeting.

“It must illegal to keep my powers away from me,” Wanda said in a trembling voice. “What if I want to – to file a police report? Or sue?”

“You are free to do that if you want, but I should remind you that you are not a U.S. citizen. While you have been granted a pardon in the U.S., you have not received one in Sokovia. You could very well end up being deported,” Dr. Ali told her. “Chances are high that you would also lose the case. Dr. Stranger is the Sorcerer Supreme. He and Kamar-Taj are the leading experts on magic and the council has agreed to allow them to take the lead when it comes to you.”

“But they’re biased against me!” Wanda cried. “It’s not fair!”

Dr. Ali was unmoved. “Based on the report Dr. Strange gave, that is unlikely,” she said. “As I said, if you do choose to pursue this, that is your choice. But I would recommend against it. Complicating matters further is the fact that you received your powers from an illegal terrorist organization.”

“I didn’t know they were Hydra!” Wanda exclaimed.

“Even _if_ you didn’t know, that doesn’t change the fact that they were illegally obtained,” Dr. Ali said. “Also, if you decide that you want to pursue legal matters, you’ll have to fund your lawyer yourself.”

“So what, we’re just supposed to pretend that we were never Avengers?” Steve said, throwing the papers on the table.

“What you do from now on is your decision. The council has authorized two months of living expenses for the three of you, as well as paid your fees for a recruitment agency to help you find work.” She gave a thin smile. “Ms. Maximoff, being that you’re not a U.S. citizen, you will also have to get in touch with immigration.”

“What – I can’t –” Wanda grew so pale that Clint thought she might faint. 

“Now, Mr. Barton, Mr. Wilson. Effective immediately, the two of you will be moving to the Compound. You will stay there to undergo training with your new team for approximately six months. At that time, the council will decide whether you will become permanent or whether you’ll be let go,” Dr. Ali continued. “But please note that it’s very unlikely your new teams will be based in New York.”

Clint couldn’t help reacting to that, clenching his hands into fists. It wasn’t unexpected – he didn’t think Iron Man or Parrae, or any of the other Protectors for that matter, would be comfortable fighting alongside any of the Avengers – but the information still struck a chord harder than he wanted to admit. His brief fantasy of fighting next to Laura on the battlefield went up in smoke. 

“That’s fine with me,” Sam said quietly.

“Sam!” Steve said. “I thought we were all in this together!”

Sam snorted. “I thought we were too. But that was before you lied to us, Steve.” He looked Steve in the eye. “The council isn’t the only one who thinks that you’d prioritize Barnes over everything else. You don’t listen to anyone who disagrees with you, especially when it comes to him.”

Steve’s mouth dropped open. “That’s not true!”

“Yeah it is,” Sam said. He stood up. “Dr. Ali, could we finish discussing this elsewhere?”

“Absolutely!” Dr. Ali said with a smile. “Mr. Barton, would you care to join us?”

“Sure,” Clint said. Natasha’s eyes snapped over to him. She looked betrayed, which Clint thought was rich. Natasha was a great friend to have so long as your priorities aligned with hers. If they didn’t, she’d be out the door and it could be two weeks or two years before you saw her again. He didn’t know what else she had expected. Clint had nothing else left but this. She had made her choice and now he was making his.

He got up and followed Sam and Dr. Ali out of the room, paying no mind to the furious whispers that immediately broke out behind him. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he was making the right choice.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](https://tsuki-chibi.tumblr.com/).


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